


Grocery Day

by turnyourankle



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-11
Updated: 2007-05-11
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4824299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete visits Ryan in Vegas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grocery Day

This, Ryan thinks as he squeezes another loaf of bread, is a test. Or some sort of initiation. Or possibly even some Wentz-trademarked hazing.   
  
There's a slight possibility that Ryan has himself to blame for this. For wandering around some stranded grocery store in the middle of the night instead of being at some houseparty, or a concert, or playing some video game, or just plain sleeping - which is what he was doing when Pete called. Maybe his response had bordered on Pavlovian when he'd recognized the assigned ring tone, but that's really beside the point. And when Pete Wentz calls you at 4 am on a Friday you can't very well ignore it, can you? Especially not when he asks for a ride to the best grocery store in Vegas, which Ryan realizes retrospectively that it really does sound like code for something else, so it's not his fault that his response is see you in 10, rather than oh, I don't really buy groceries.  
  
Ryan can only blame himself a little bit.  
  
"Would you just fucking look at the ties Ross? I don't really want bread that has suffered death by squeezing."  
  
"Huh," the ties all look the same to Ryan, and the prospect of looking over all the loaves on the shelves to find out what this differently tied bread Pete wants is, is not an appealing one. Especially not when the fluorescent light above seems to be buzzing in sync with the - what is it, Bublé? - song seeping suggestively from the speakers.   
  
Pete's shoulder bumps into his arm as he joins him. His eyes scan the stacks before grabbing a loaf. "White, Friday's white ties," Pete says before wandering off to another aisle, "meet me in the dairy section."  
  
The buzzing cylindrical light above his head blinks once, twice and then shuts off. The buzzing is still there. Ryan feels like opening a box of cereal and sitting down in the aisle, and to wait for Pete to come back. But the floor's not really the kind of territory he wants his jeans to be touching, and Pete's lack of sense of time means he'd probably just wait in the dairy section until noon, and then conclude that Ryan had been kidnapped, and then figure he might as well stick around to see which picture would end up on the milk cartons.   
  
*  
  
Pete's in the process of crawling into the refrigerated area when Ryan catches up with him. The only other person in the dairy department is a gaunt woman who stares bug-eyed at Ryan, as if he was the one who told Pete to build a milk fort, and as if he'd just asked her to be the princess of their kingdom.  
  
"Pete?"  
  
Pete turns around at that, placing a few more 2% cartons with the skims, and proceeding to climb out of the "Help me out will ya? You can probably reach in further anyway."  
  
Pete makes an effort to stand up, making leeway for Ryan to get through, "Is there something wrong with the other milks?" Ryan asks tentatively, leaning in to read the best before dates on some of the rejected carton. They're all good for 5-6 more days.   
  
"I want the newest milk, there's no point in being here this early otherwise," Pete enunciates each word, like Ryan's the one who reorganized the dairy section and scared off one of the scarier people you'd encounter in an abandoned grocery store. "We know you have fresher milk!" Pete shouts into the back of the milk stacks, "Oh, fuck it," he mumbles, and clumsily stumbles onto dry land "I think it's time for another reminder as to why I'm not a vegan," Pete adds as he eyes the shelves and grabs a carton of oat milk without checking the date.   
  
*  
  
Check out is surprisingly uneventful, Pete calls the cashier by name, making her blush, and says please and thank you, and Ryan doesn't get how he's not used to the personality changes by now.   
  
"So uh," Ryan starts, and laughs nervously, "what exactly was the lesson this time? I mean, you didn't like, wake me up to go to the grocery store just to get fresh milk and bread did you? And I'm a little too tired to figure out how this is like, a metaphor for life or whatever."  
  
"Dude, I was just bored," Pete deadpans, as he climbs into the driver's seat of Ryan's car.


End file.
